


Not Exactly Cinderella

by katmarajade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Old Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1440166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kingsley is not happy when his Personal Assistant insists he bring a date to the Ministry Ball. Luckily for him, a good friend from his Auror days has just come back into town!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Exactly Cinderella

Sliding into the private corner booth that Aberforth always kept open for him, Kingsley sighed and took a long swig of his ale, already wishing he'd grabbed two before sitting down. Everyone thought being Minister of Magic was all glamour and saving the world and looking really good in designer robes, but some days it really sucked. 

Greedy politicians, bickering coalitions, scheming deviants, desperate war criminals, snooping reporters—those he could deal with. 

The worst part of being Minister of Magic was the bloody Balls. No, the worst part was definitely having your Personal Assistant tell you that you needed a date for the upcoming Ball. A smug, condescending assistant telling him that his perpetual bachelorhood was starting to hurt his poll numbers and that, with the hotly divisive government revamp beginning, he needed all the help he could get. Apparently, a few shiny photos of him schmoozing with a gorgeous woman were all it would take to distract the populace. 

It was insulting. It was absurd. It was downright humiliating. 

He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was one of the most powerful men in wizarding society. He had a voice that made interns swoon with alarming regularity. How was it that he couldn't find a date? Well, a _real_ date. There was no shortage of anxious women vying for a chance to get their pictures in the Prophet or brag about shagging the Minister of Magic or Mr January in the War Orphan Calendar Campaign. (That Lavender Brown was quite the persuasive saleswoman. He really should make a point to ask her about her political aspirations.)

He finished his drink and ran a finger sullenly along the empty rim, not wanting to venture back out into the pub for another. His pity party was unceremoniously interrupted when a loud crash came from behind his table's curtain, followed by an all-too-familiar,

"Oh, bloody pissing hell!"

He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. Maybe luck was with him after all. A cheerful face peered into his curtained-off zone.

"Wotcher, Kingsley."

"Wotcher, Tonks," he replied, playfully imitating her Cockney accent just as he'd always done years ago when they were working together. Back when they were just Aurors, not Ministers or Security Chiefs for the International Wizengamot. Gesturing to the open seat across from him, Kinglsey asked her to sit down. She collapsed into the booth, ever a mess of gangly limbs. 

"Abe's bringing another round. Said you looked even more menacing than usual."

"Ta. It's been a long day." He explained his ordeal, making sure to emphasise the inappropriateness and absurdity. When he was finished, he looked at her expectantly, waiting for indignation or least solidarity. 

"That's it? Miss Moneypenny says you need a date and you're debating whether or not you're justified in calling the Auror Reserves and all of Her Majesty's Royal Forces to arms over it?"

"Well, it was _how_ she said it," he muttered, feeling like he was back in primary school. Perhaps he was blowing it a bit out of proportion. 

Aberforth brought their drinks and they both nodded their thanks and took a few sips before continuing. 

"So take a friend," Tonks suggested. "You do still have friends, don't you? Now that you're all big and important-like."

"I have friends," he shot back tightly, annoyed at her for being so damn rational. 

"Problem solved!"

"Okay, well, I don't exactly have any female friends who aren't married, engaged, or lesbians."

"Fair enough. I guess it's your lucky day—you now have me!"

"You're going to attend the Ball with me?" His sceptical tone caused a look of affront.

"Hey! I'm not exactly Cinderella, but I look damn posh in a ball gown! And in deference to your lofty position, I'll even keep my hair a boring, ministerial brown."

"I didn't mean … whatever. Fine."

"With charm like that, it's no wonder you need Miss Moneypenny to find you a date."

"She didn't … her name's not …" Kingsley sighed. There was no point in arguing with Tonks. Anything he said would just get twisted around and laughed at. Best to shut up and pretend to be above such things. Being around her made him feel like a greenie Auror again, all lost and ridiculous and trying to look cool, even when he hadn't a bleeding clue what he was doing.

♣ ♣ ♣

Less than forty-eight hours later, they found themselves trapped in a broom cupboard in the Ministry.

"That is the last time I Side-Along Apparate with you!" huffed Tonks, scanning the storage area with the light of her wand. 

"It's not entirely my fault! This used to be a nice little corner, perfect for quiet entrances."

" _Used to_ being the problem!"

"Well, they are supposed to run new Ministry floor plan changes past me first! I am going to have words with the event designers!"

"Knowing you, the documents about these changes are still in a pile on that giant, pompous desk of yours-- _or_ you had little Miss Moneypenny forge your signature! I remember your style."

"Hey!" Kingsley protested, unused to anyone talking back to him. Even his close friends were overly polite and respectful these days. 

"Can we Apparate out?"

"C'mon, you know there's no intra-Ministry Apparition. I don't know why this spot even worked if they've changed the floor plan—apparently the Wards Department didn't get the memo either!"

"You're not being terribly useful. Just so you know."

"Well, I'm a bit stressed. You see, when we manage to get out of here, we're going to be beset by rabid reporters snapping tomorrow's front page."

"That's ridiculous. You aren't that important!"

"You've been out of the country awhile. I'm kind of a big deal around here."

"It's not like you're Harry fucking Potter."

"Well, he saved the world, but I'm the one putting it back together. Besides, he's a nice kid, but I'm much sexier. That has to count for something."

"It does," Tonks said, her voice squeaking slightly. Kingsley tried to hide his grin at her flushed cheeks. "But how could they possibly know you're here? In a broom cupboard?"

Shrugging sheepishly, he admitted, "I allow special Apparition signature tracking during these events. It seemed to keep the reporters at bay! But they know I'm here and someone else who is not on their list is with me. They'll be camped outside that door—I promise you that."

"They could help us _open_ it," Tonks grumbled.

"Where would the fun in that be?" he asked, trying for cheerful and failing. "Look, Tonks, I'm sorry. You're going to be on the cover of all the rags and I doubt it's going to be very kind. They're vultures, the lot of them. If you want to, you know, _change_ before we walk out there, I would understand."

"You had better not be saying what I think you're saying! If you're ashamed of being seen with me then you should never have invited me in the first place!"

"I didn't actually invite… never mind! I was trying to help, but clearly I'm just digging myself a hole."

"Damn straight. You should be honoured to be seen with me—I'm not the awkward, klutzy girl I used to be. I'm a big deal now, too!"

"You are," Kingsley agreed fervently, more flustered than he ought to be at her ire.

"Good. That's sorted. Now then, let's get out of here."

"It's locked," he said. "And there's no lock on this side to spell open."

"Good thing you have me then, as you've clearly gone soft in that cushy office of yours."

Tonks pushed him to the side, stepped back, and gave the door a powerful kick, splintering the wood. 

"Last chance, _Minister_ ," she said tauntingly. "Ashamed to be seen with me?"

"Tonks, there is no way anyone could be ashamed to be seen with you." His sincerity must have been obvious, because for once she accepted his words and gave him a smile—one of the too-big, toothy grins he remembered from the good old days.

Stepping out through the broken door into the flashing bulbs of the paparazzi was easier with someone by your side, Kingsley thought. 

In the midst of the flashing cameras and frantic, shouted, inappropriate questions, he glanced over at Tonks. Her hair was back to a vivid violet, the same shade as the lining of his dress robes. She gave him a cheeky smile, and he decided then and there that he needed far more of her in his life. 

Perhaps, if he was lucky and this Ball was as dull as he was expecting, he could convince her to come back to his and get to know each other better. Or maybe they could just come back to this rather convenient broom cupboard …


End file.
